


The miracle of flight

by SumOfAllThings



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Wings, Bigotry & Prejudice, Class Issues, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Hate Speech, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misogyny, Ownership, Tony Stark-centric, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:23:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumOfAllThings/pseuds/SumOfAllThings
Summary: People told me I looked a lot like my father, but the truth was I was my mother's child in every sense of the word. Small and fine-boned, with dark hair and eyes. I inherited everything that made her fae -- everything that guaranteed I would live out the rest of my life under the thumb of those that thought they were pure.They wanted to control me. They thought they had the right.They were wrong.





	The miracle of flight

**Author's Note:**

> It's a fae Tony fanfic...because why the hell not :P

Maria used to say that the most amazing gift in the world was the miracle of flight. She swore that no amount of the bigotry or injustice could dampen the pure, unbridled joy of soaring above the earth. 

“They’ll never know, Anthony,” she insisted, taking me to the top of Stark mansion and out onto the balcony railing. Howard had unveiled a new revolutionary weapon and the gardens below were humming with guests and soldiers -- a combination Maria detested. She unfurled her sparking gossamer wings and spread her arms wide above her head. “They’ll never know the true beauty of flight.” 

She was ethereal and memorising. I often heard people tell Howard how lucky he was to have such a beautiful wife, but I never understood just how stunning she was until that moment. Her silver and blue wings were flared wide and bared proudly to the world, her face upturned to the sky.

“Mom,” I whispered, clutching her black cocktail dress. “Don’t...” It was forbidden. There were laws -- too many to count. My mother knew that. Even at the tender age of nine, I knew that. 

I didn’t realise how broken she was, how angry and downtrodden and utterly tired life had made her. She missed it, she told me. Every day she mourned the loss of her freedom. She meant to reclaim it by any means necessary. 

And so she jumped.

It was...bad after that. I’d never seen my father so angry -- angry because she disobeyed, angry because people had seen her so brazenly disgrace herself. Angry because she had been filling my head with lies. 

He locked her away for a long time. It didn’t matter how much I begged, screamed or threatened to go to the press, he refused to let me see her. When I tried to tell the police they laughed at me. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe me, I eventually realised, they just didn’t care. Maria was a second-class citizen -- a highly valued commodity and almost entirely without basic human rights. 

When she was finally allowed outside her wings were bound with intricate gold and diamond chains, ensuring she remained disgraced and grounded. Howard meant to utterly control her and to show the world that he didn’t condone her actions. She became a warning, a clear reminder of what could happen. 

I was fifteen when her drinking became really noticeable. She was drunk almost all of the time. She started to look old and haggard. Her beautiful chestnut brown hair turned grey and lacklustre. She wouldn’t speak unless absolutely necessary and would spend hours just staring outside the window. Howard had broken her so completely she wasn’t even a person anymore. It occurred to me pretty quickly that my mother died the day she stepped off the ledge. I wasn’t getting her back.

“Such a beautiful child,” she said to me once, sweetly and kindly as we sat together under the watchful gaze of my father. We were never alone together -- my father, a tutor, the butler -- someone was always in attendance. She lifted a shaking hand and pressed it gently against my back. “So terribly pretty.”

“Thanks, mom,” I said, a little startled but pleased she was reaching out to me. I couldn’t remember the last time -

“Maria,” Howard barked, making both of us jump. “Don’t touch them.”

Don’t touch them, don’t acknowledge him. 

People told me I looked a lot like my father, but the truth was I was my mother's child in every sense of the word. Small and fine-boned, with dark hair and eyes. I had inherited everything that made her fae -- everything that guaranteed I would live out the rest of my life under the thumb of those that thought they were pure. 

I hated it -- hated my life, hated that I was powerless -- I hated my father most of all. For how he treated us, for how he belittled and hurt us. I hated him for treating me like shit. It wasn’t fair.

Howard and Maria never had any more children, no matter how desperately Howard wanted an heir. Fae children were perfect policial pieces, a means to make alliances and assure new ventures, but no one wanted a fae as their heir. Faced with just me and an ageing wife, Howard was running out of options. I often feared what Howard would have done to Maria, had they not died so suddenly in a car crash.

 

***********************

“Hands off the merchandise,” I automatically snapped when I felt fingers skim over my left wing. I turned around sharply and felt a pang of unease when I came face to face with Justine Hammer. I could feel my lips peel back in distaste and quickly put some much-needed space between us, almost immediately hitting the bar counter and realising I had effectively and foolishly boxed myself in.

“Anthony,” Hammer greeted brightly, pressing forward and eating up the distance between us with easy familiarity. “I thought it was you. I’d recognise those beautiful wings anywhere. How are you, my dear?”

“I’m good,” I said, trying to find a way around him without being too obvious. The man repulsed me on a subatomic level and I wanted him gone. Where the hell was Happy? “Excuse me, I was just…”

I cringed a little when his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. I wasn’t sure why he thought he had the right to freely touch me. I looked over my shoulder and noticed with some relief that Happy was finally making his way towards us. I was OK. No one could hurt me, not in the open. 

“What’s your rush, Anthony? It’s been so long since I last saw you. I almost thought you’d be cloistered.”

I did flinch then, violently. I silently cursed myself for being so damn obvious about it -- it wasn’t a good idea to let anyone, least of all a creep like Hammer, know what I feared the most -- and attempted to fake a smile. “Nope, nothing like that. I’ve just been busy. Work and all -” I trailed off, aware Hammer had noticed Happy imminent arrival and was thankfully backing off.

“I might have heard something about that. Are the rumours true that Obadiah actually allowed you to take some online courses through the local community college?”

He sounded amused by the idea -- like I was being overindulged by my guardian. Jesus, he was such an ass. “Something like that,” I agreed vaguely. Except it wasn’t a community college, it was MIT. It wasn’t a few courses either, I’d just be awarded a goddamn PhD in mechanical engineering. I was a fucking genius and he was acting like I was taking cooking lessons at the YMCA. Of course, no one really knew. Sure, MIT wanted to tell people but there was no way in hell Obie was going to let it become public knowledge. The only reason he let me take the courses in the first place was that it benefited him. “It’s been keeping me out of trouble I guess.” I smiled widely, slowly inching closer to Happy. “I heard Hammer Industries are exhibiting at the upcoming defence expo,” I said, trying to feign interest as I reached for my tablet. “I guess that’s why you’re here.”

“Obadiah tell you that, did he?”

Nope, I read it in Forbes, dickhead. “Sure did.”

“Will you be attending then?”

“Not to the actual exhibition,” I said, trying to keep the longing from my voice. “But I’ll be around.”

“Excellent,” Hammer said, leaning into my space to take my hand. I saw Happy twitch but Hammer wasn’t technically doing anything wrong by kissing my hand, even if it was creepy as hell. “I’ll see you around Anthony.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking back my hand and barely resisting the urge to wipe away the man's spit. “See you.”

I allowed Happy to take my elbow and escort me out of the bar. It had been a calculated risk going in there -- I knew there was a danger someone would approach -- but at the same time, it meant my name would circulate in society. With the way I’d been pissing off Obie lately, I needed to make myself visible again, even if it meant dealing with assholes like Hammer. 

“Did you have fun?” Happy asked as he opened the limo door for me. He knew better, but he liked to stay positive. He was a nice guy, for a pureblood.

I slipped inside and drew my coat a little tighter against the chill. “It was swell,” I said with a purposefully bright grin.

Happy knew me well enough to recognise when I was full of shit, but he was too well paid to say anything out loud. He got into the driver's seat and looked at me via the rearview mirror, frowning a little. I waved idly and closed the screen until I was blocked from view. As soon as I realised I was no longer being observed I flopped onto my stomach and pulled out my phone. 

I cursed inwardly when I saw I had eight missed calls and three voicemails from Obie.I listened to the messages and felt a growing sense of dread when the older man's tone became increasingly cold and formal. I knew him well enough to realise when Obie was working himself into a complete meltdown. I realised my hands were shaking and forced myself to calm down. As long as the old man needed me I was valuable to him. He wouldn’t just get rid of me. Not as long as I remained useful.

My phone vibrated and I felt a jolt of fear and uncertainty. “Hey Obie,” I said, keeping my tone light and friendly when his weathered face appeared on my phone screen. I sat up slowly, feeling my wings press back defensively when he didn’t say anything. “I just got your voicemails. I was about to call you.”

“Where have you been?” he asked in a slow, measured tone. 

“I spent a little time in the lab and then decided to get a drink,” I shrugged, trying to force down the anxiety I could feel bubbling in my chest. “It was just one drink, Obie. Happy was with me the entire time. I didn’t -”

“Did I say you could go out for a drink?” Obie asked, talking over me. “Even one?”

“No,” I said, fisting my hand against my jeans and trying to remain calm. I knew Obie was going to find out. Yeah, I’d hoped it wouldn’t get back to him so soon but I guess I underestimated just how closely he was having me watched.

“But you decided to go anyway. Even without my permission, which you know damn well you need Tony. What were you thinking?”

“That I was thirsty,” I said, flashing him a bright smile. Obie’s lips didn’t even twitch. “Seriously, I’m sorry. I was bored and -”

“Enough,” the old man growled. “We’ll talk about it when you get back to the suite. Do not keep me waiting, boy or I promise you won’t like the consequences.”

“Yeah,” I said, staring at a blank screen as Obie cut off the call. “I get it.”


End file.
